


On Cocoa and Sleep

by ThatMasterOnline



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 16:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMasterOnline/pseuds/ThatMasterOnline
Summary: Crowley learns over cocoa that Aziraphale has some absolutely ridiculous views on sleep, and sets out to change them.





	On Cocoa and Sleep

"I blame you for this," Crowley said, sprawled on a couch in Aziraphale's bookshop.

"For what?" Aziraphale spluttered, not liking the idea of being  _ blamed  _ for anything.

" _ This _ ," Crowley replied, waving a hand vaguely, "Blankets. Cocoa. This whole... _ thing  _ we've got going on."

"This whole thing we've got going on," Aziraphale replied, air quotes in his voice, "Is quite nice, in my opinion."

"But that's just it!" Crowley retorted, "I'm not meant to enjoy cocoa and blankets, it's... _ too  _ nice. Our side or not, I have a reputation to hold up, and  _ this _ ," He waved vaguely again, at the blanket on his lap and the mug of cocoa in his hand, "Is not part of it."

"Cocoa is all about indulging," Aziraphale replied, just the slightest bit defensive, "I thought you'd be all over that sort of thing."

"...Cocoa. About  _ indulging _ ?" 

"Well, yes! You savour the taste, and enjoy the warmth as the cocoa travels down your throat! Isn't that even the slightest bit...hedonistic?" Crowley sighed, a smile already working its way onto his face. 

"There is no possible way you could convince me that  _ cocoa _ is hedonistic."

"Fine, sit there and let your cocoa grow cold," Aziraphale retorted, "I'm sure that's the properly demonic thing to do." Crowley snorted, but then Aziraphale took a sip of his cocoa, and suddenly Crowley knew exactly where that whole "hedonistic" argument came from. Aziraphale's eyes closed as he tilted the mug, and Crowley could tell he was holding the cocoa in his mouth even after he put the mug down. He was savouring it, enjoying the taste and warmth of the cocoa on his tongue, in his mouth...Crowley could feel him enjoying every sensation from here, and then there was a slow breath, and then his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and even after he swallowed his eyes stayed closed for almost another five seconds before they fluttered open. He was savouring the cocoa's warmth even as it travelled away from his throat, savouring the warmth in the pit of his belly. He relished the way one single sip of cocoa could warm everything, from his mouth, all the way down his throat and into his stomach.

The whole display had been almost pornographic, to Crowley.

"You're right," he agreed, fighting not to let the flush show on his cheeks, "Absolutely sinful."

"There, you see?" Aziraphale agreed, glad that Crowley had caught on, "It's overindulgent of me. You're tempting me into sin, Crowley, you have no need to feel guilty about cocoa."

"Except you asked me for cocoa, I didn't have to tempt you into anything."

"That's just a minor detail."

"The devil's in the details, as they say," Crowley replied, leaning forward, genuinely interested in the answer to the question he was about to ask, "And I notice all sorts of little details. Take for example, that you indulge in all sorts of earthly pleasures, food, wine, sex, cocoa…" He trailed off. "...But never sleep. You've not slept once in six thousand years, angel. Thought that would be right up your alley, since you do so love your human indulgences."

"There's hardly anything to indulge in," Aziraphale sniffed, "It's a lack of sensation. You can hardly indulge in not feeling anything. If anything, I should be wondering why you're so fond of it. There's nothing there to be fond of." Crowley was dumbfounded.

"A lack of sensation?" Crowley repeated, gobsmacked. "...Right, get up, we're going to my bed. Right now. I'm teaching you how to sleep, the right way. Go on, get up." Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow, but miracled the cocoa away and stood up anyways. Crowley held out his hand for Aziraphale to take, and then they were both in Crowley's bedroom. Aziraphale had seen Crowley's bedroom before, having come in to visit during Crowley's century-long nap. This time around, the king-sized bed was empty, and it stretched on forever to Aziraphale. Looking at the bed with the purpose of sleep in mind, he could see now that the duvet was thick and soft, as were the pillows. The bed wasn't made, but that only served to emphasize the point that this bed was comfortable and well-loved. It was incredibly tempting...or at least, Aziraphale could see how it would be, to Crowley. He still thought it was a lot of fuss about nothing. Crowley let him admire the bed in silence, and Aziraphale distractedly wondered if that was planned, part of the ritual. Much like good plating, when the point of food was to be eaten, not stared at. Only when Aziraphale turned his eyes from the bed and focused on Crowley again did he begin.

"Now, the first step is pyjamas. Something soft. Something you could sleep for a century in and not be uncomfortable."

"I'm hardly going to sleep for a century, Crowley," Aziraphale said.

"Figure of speech," Crowley replied in a way that was meant to be dismissive, but his eyebrow cocked in a way that said  _ you could. You might take to sleeping once I've shown you how pleasurable it can be. _ Still, if Crowley was going to give him a proper introduction to sleep, then it was only proper for him to put in the effort. Aziraphale strongly suspected the effort would all be for naught and he would emerge still thinking sleep was  _ much ado about nothing _ , as it were, but it certainly wouldn't be from lack of trying. And so, taking a moment to imagine what sort of thing he would be comfortable in, he snapped his fingers and miracled himself into a comfortable cotton dressing gown, the kind with sleeves that went to his wrists and stretched down to his ankles, leaving only his feet bare. Crowley gave him a once-over with a gaze that Aziraphale knew intimately, one he liked to call the  _ forced non-judgement  _ gaze. It was a look he got when it was taking all of Crowley's self control not to comment on how ridiculously outdated or not-stylish his outfit was. It only lasted for a second, though, before Crowley nodded.

"You think you'll be comfortable in that?" 

"Of course." Crowley nodded again.

"Alright, then. Get under the covers and make yourself comfortable."

"What will you do?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley shrugged, a chair already appearing at the bedside.

"I'll stay to walk you through it, but I can leave after that, if you'd like." 

"I...no. I rather like the thought of you staying with me while I sleep." Crowley smiled, one of those rare, disarmed smiles Aziraphale loved so much.

"Alright then, angel." Of course, Crowley would never impose so much as to suggest they sleep together. If Aziraphale took to this, as Crowley knew he would because how could you  _ not _ , there was always the next time. Aziraphale smiled and crawled under the covers, pulling them up to his shoulders and laying on his back, arms folded primly over his stomach.

"Now what?" Aziraphale asked.

"Get comfortable, angel. A position you could lie in for a long time. I'll wait." 

"I'm quite comfortable as I am, thank you."

"You won't be once your body starts to settle." Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but he could already feel it; the first tingles of discomfort in his back. He shifted onto his side, and this was certainly more comfortable, but...He shifted again. And then again, and again. Finally he settled on his right side with his left leg bent over his right. Both arms were bent, the hands under the pillow. True to his word, Crowley waited patiently for Aziraphale to get comfortable. 

"I think I'm quite settled like this," Aziraphale said finally, "What next?"

"Close your eyes, and just breathe. Take deep breaths. Try to imagine breathing out all the tension in your body, but don't go overboard. Just breathe normally, and everything will take care of itself." Silence settled over the bedroom for some time, broken only by the sounds of their breathing. 

"...What next?" 

"Shhh…" Crowley soothed him, "Don't talk, just keep breathing." Crowley waited in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again, his voice barely a murmur.

"You should start to feel a heaviness to your eyelids, like you'd have trouble raising them." Crowley was right, his eyelids were feeling heavy and leaden, but...in a good way. A comforting way, "Just keep breathing. Let yourself sink into the bed, just let go and relax." He was sinking into the bed, he felt so heavy, and so relaxed, and it was so good and so pleasant. His breathing was smooth and even, and it was perfect. He was so wrong about sleeping, this was wonderful.

Crowley, for his part, was keeping a careful eye on Aziraphale's heart rate and breathing. He could feel it slowing, much to his delight, but there was one last thing he had planned for Aziraphale, and he had to get this exactly right. If he was too early or too late it would ruin the effect, but if he got it  _ just right _ …

He's close now...very close, but not quite there yet...Getting closer...getting closer...His breathing was starting to slow much faster...and... _ now _ .

It was soft, so soft, but definitely there. A hand pressed at his side, tucking the blankets under his body. Crowley was tucking him in, no doubt thinking he was already asleep. Of course he thought he was asleep already, that was the only reason Crowley would ever be so openly affectionate with him. The fact that he wasn't asleep felt like little more than pure coincidence at this point, and so the gentle-firm press of Crowley's hand, tucking him in, felt like forbidden knowledge that he shouldn't be privy to. It felt exhilarating, it felt  _ intimate _ , and it sent a frisson of pleasure so intense it was almost painful running from the nape of his neck down to his toes. He wanted to arch (into the sensation? Or away from it?), his face wanted to contort with the intensity of it, but he was so far gone towards sleep he simply lay there in silence. His body had been overwhelmed with sensation, and yet he'd given no outward sign of it, a thought that sent another little shudder through him.

The hand pulled away, and Aziraphale knew he would treasure the feel of Crowley tucking him in forever, but Crowley wasn't done yet. There was a pause of a few seconds, and then a fingertip gently touched his brow, caressing his face and brushing a stay lock of hair away from his eyes. Another shudder ripped through him, and Aziraphale thought he might burst from the gentleness of it all and the intensity of the feelings it was provoking in him, but he was so far gone his breathing stayed smooth and regular despite the torment rippling along his skin, and he was able to experience every glorious second without letting Crowley know he was awake. Crowley caressed his face again, and then, wonder of wonders, Crowley's lips pressed  _ ever so gently  _ to his forehead, as though he were a delicate flower petal, and if Aziraphale had thought he might burst before, the painfully pleasurable shocks of feeling now were setting his whole body aflame, and it was nothing short of agony. His body cried out for mercy, for release, for an end to his torment and for  _ more  _ all at once, and it was so much he wanted to scream.

Aziraphale heard the softest sound as Crowley's lips pulled away from his forehead, and with how close they were he heard Crowley draw in a quiet breath.

"...Goodnight, Aziraphale." It was a quiet murmur, spoken softly so as not to wake him, and a final shiver wracked his body, one that left him feeling oversensitive in the best way possible. After that, the only sounds in the room were the deep, soothing sounds of their quiet breathing, and Aziraphale drifted off to sleep the same way everyone else did: without being aware that it had happened at all.

Crowley sat forward in his chair, knowing Aziraphale had heard and felt everything, and he smiled. Aziraphale would be properly addicted after this, there was simply no way he would call  _ that  _ a "lack of sensation". He'd felt it himself, once, and he knew it was the kind of feeling that made its way into your very happiest dreams. 

Speaking of dreams, Aziraphale was properly asleep now, and Crowley smiled as he gave one last gift to his angel.

"...When you wake, you'll have dreamt about whatever it is you like best." 

***

Aziraphale awoke to the feeling of being cocooned by warm sheets. Everything was so soft, and so perfect, and what a curious feeling to realize you'd fallen asleep because if you hadn't fallen asleep, you wouldn't have  _ woken up  _ to anything. He lay in bed with his eyes closed for a little while, delighting in the softness of the sheets and loathe to fully leave behind the  _ wonderful  _ dream he'd had last night. He'd been swimming at the bottom of the ocean, and yet it was light enough to see, and he could breathe just fine. It was a ridiculous, nonsensical dream, but there was such a feeling of  _ peace  _ that he desperately wished he could close his eyes and sink right back into it. He was certainly comfortable enough. Still, he decided that the gentle transition from sleeping to waking was also part of the experience, so he shifted, and was immediately overcome with a need to stretch. He did, and what a glorious feeling it was. His body twisted, and shuddered, and all in all it was deeply satisfying to stretch after such a long time spent - presumably - still.

Finally he deemed himself ready. He blinked his eyes open, finding at first the ceiling, then turning his gaze and seeing that Crowley had fallen into a light doze sometime during the night. His heart clenched at how beautiful he was, made all the more so now that he knew what a blissful experience sleep was.

"Crowley…" The name slipped out before he could stop it, full of love and tenderness, and Crowley inhaled sharply, shifting and blinking his eyes open as Aziraphale had done moments earlier.

"...Morning, angel," he murmured when he saw him, voice still rough from sleep.

"Good-" His voice came out scratchy and barely-present, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "...Good morning yourself, Crowley. How long did I sleep for?" Crowley shrugged.

"About forty-five years, give or take." Crowley chuckled sleepily when a look of utter horror crossed Aziraphale's face.

"Kidding, angel. Still, you slept a while, about three weeks. I knew you'd take to it." 

"I did. I have," Aziraphale said, gaze softening, "Crowley, it was  _ wonderful _ . I had the most incredible dream, and- oh,  _ Crowley _ , the way you tucked me in last night, and then you-you touched my face, and,  _ oh _ , when you kissed me goodnight, goodness, I thought for sure I would explode. It was so much, but it was so  _ good _ , and I can't believe I ever described sleeping as a lack of sensation, and- ...What I mean to say, Crowley, is thank you. Thank you so much for last night. Or, well...you know what I mean. Thank you for everything. It was..absolutely incredible, and I can say with certainty that you've converted me. I intend to sleep every night after this. I'll have to get my own bed, though, I shouldn't want to impose…" Crowley watched Aziraphale, the light in his eyes and the wonder in his voice, with a smile.

"I'm glad you had a nice rest. And it's no imposition at all, angel, sleep here every night if you want. Besides, they say sleeping is better when you're beside someone." 

"You mean, sleep together? Are you sure, Crowley? I wouldn't want to be any trouble…"

"Honestly, trouble is part of the fun of sleeping with another person. Besides, how can I help you experience the other types of sleep if I'm not with you?"

"Other types? There...there are more?"

"Course there are. Sleeping with someone, sleeping nude, sleeping with your head at the wrong end of the bed, sleeping without blankets, falling asleep to music, falling asleep to someone singing a lullaby, falling asleep to someone's hand in your hair, or their lips on your skin, or waking up to their lips on your skin, waking up in someone's arms...There are so many types of sleep to experience, angel, more types than food, I'd wager. And there are tons of them you can't experience without a partner. There are types I haven't tried because I never had a partner. Be no good if you slept anywhere else. All these types of sleep that need a partner, it'd just be inconvenient." Aziraphale's eyes were sparkling, but what exactly they were sparkling with - amusement, tears, joy - seemed to change by the second.

"And...you're sure you won't mind, if I stay?"

"Course not. Need to help guide you through it, after all."

"Then I'd love to try sleeping with you."

"Excellent, then it's settled." There was a lengthy silence.

"...What,  _ now _ ?"

"Well, you're the one who introduced me to sleep and went out of your way to make it pleasant for me, you can't possibly expect me to  _ get out of bed now _ , can you?" Crowley sighed, but there was no exasperation, only fondness. And then he miracled himself into his favourite pair of silk pyjamas.

"Come on then, scooch over, you bloody hedonist." And Aziraphale gladly shifted to make room for Crowley, and settled in to let him explain the intricacies of where your arms go when you're sleeping with a partner and how you can be close and still comfortable.


End file.
